


Kiss The Boy

by kekinkawaii



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii
Summary: Valentine's Day vignettes.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Todd Brotzman/Dirk Gently
Comments: 24
Kudos: 17





	1. Johnlock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ensorcel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/gifts), [bringmayflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmayflowers/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide on which pairing to write for, so I picked all of the above :D
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day! Whether that's with family, friends, or significant others, I hope your day is filled with love <3
> 
> P.S. These are all canon in my heart.

John heard his name being bellowed from downstairs, and hobbled down with one sock half-on, heart racing.

He skidded to a stop at the kitchen.

“There you are,” Sherlock said impatiently. He thrust a bubbling skillet filled with shrimp fettuccine towards him. To the side stood their coffee table, proudly decked out in a crimson tablecloth and a tall flickering candle. “Dinner. Now.”

John chanced one glance down at the dish before reverting to staring at Sherlock’s face. It smelled delicious, but… “You’re _covered_ in blood.”

“What?” Sherlock snapped, blinked, darted a finger to swipe at his cheek; it came off red. “Oh. I forgot. I dropped by the morgue before coming home. Did you know the average housecat contains nearly half a pint of blood?”

“Very romantic,” John said faintly.

Sherlock scrunched up his nose like an irritated housecat, and, wow, bad timing for that metaphor. “That’s not romantic. Why is that romantic?”

“Sherlock,” John sighed. “You know, it was cute at first, but it’s just irritating now.”

Head canting to the side, Sherlock blinked up at him; innocuous.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what day it is.”

“International Book-Giving Day,” Sherlock said immediately. “Pet Theft Awareness Day. National Condom Awareness Day.”

“No, no, and—what? You’re making that up.”

“Feel free to Google it.”

“Maybe I will. Hey, wait, no, don’t change the subject.”

“I wasn’t.”

John made a frustrated noise between his teeth, stomped over to the table, and heaved himself onto the chair. Right in front of the vase of roses. National Condom Awareness Day, his arse. “Just give me the goddamn fettuccine. And _please_ go take a shower.”

Sherlock smiled. “Happy Valentine’s Day, John.”


	2. Destiel

“Cas, I think that’s enough glitter.”

“No,” Castiel said, completely upending the glitter canister and shaking it like a sodium addict with a salt shaker.

Dean sighed, and snatched it away from him.

“Hey!”

“Seriously, dude, you do _not_ wanna get that shit in your clothes. It. Never. Comes. Off.” Jesus, it was too late already. He poked at a fleck of it stuck on Castiel’s cheek. “Trust me.”

Castiel harrumphed. “Fine.” Grabbing the red marker from the other side of the table, he bent over the card, scribbling furiously. He’d been working on the card for the better half of ten minutes, now, corner of his tongue peeking out in concentration. What the hell was he doing, writing the goddamn Declaration of Independence in there?

Dean pursed his lips and twiddled his thumbs and made clicking noises with his tongue. Castiel didn’t budge. He hummed through two verses of _Here Comes The Sun._ Castiel bobbed his head a little, but didn’t react otherwise. He dragged his chair closer, emitting an awful screeching sound. Castiel’s mouth quirked into a distracted frown, marker faltering infinitesimally.

Dean held on for a few more beats before crumbling. “So, uh. Who’s it for?”

“Dean,” Castiel said warningly.

“Come on! Please?”

Castiel shot him a glare. “Be patient.”

“Patient’s my middle name.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well—” Dean opened his mouth; closed it. _“You’re_ patient,” he grumbled. Castiel didn’t respond.

Minutes, hours, _days_ later, Castiel straightened. He huffed out a satisfied breath, finally—finally!—pulling the card out and holding it out to Dean. It was in the shape of a heart with carefully-trimmed construction paper ruffles and positively slathered in glitter.

Dean grinned hugely. Didn’t even try to hide his smugness.

Keeping a straight face, Castiel said, “Could you help me deliver this to Sam?”

Dean punched him in the shoulder.


	3. Sabriel

“Gabe, I _told_ you if you did that one more time—“

“Yeah, yeah, yada yada.” Gabriel popped his icing-covered fingers into his mouth and shot Sam a smarmy grin around it.

Sam glared weakly. “That’s so unsanitary.”

“I washed my hands!”

“Still. You don’t know what you’ve touched after that, though. The counter, the doorknob, the tap handles—“

“Alright, alright,” Gabriel cooed, coming closer to sling an arm around Sam. “I’ll stop. Just for you, Samsquatch.”

“And don’t call me that,” Sam mumbled.

“Alrighty, Samshine.”

Sam pursed his lips and continued mixing the frosting with his spatula, head ducked to hide his blush.

True to his word—shockingly—Gabriel remained obedient throughout the rest of the decorating process, dutifully frosting each of the red-velvet tops without a single incident thereafter, save for a rather unfortunate encounter with the sharp end of the frosting tip and the palm of his hand (he swore up and down that he somehow didn’t see it; Sam pressed on a band-aid and rolled his eyes at Gabriel’s request to kiss it better).

“That must have been difficult for you,” Sam remarked after everything was iced. The cupcakes stood side-by-side on the kitchen counter like a row of tiny delicious soldiers.

Gabriel eyed the frosting bowl like a cat with a canary. He drew in a breath, held it; turned to Sam with imploring eyes.

With a put-upon sigh, Sam handed it over.

“I don’t even like the frosting,” Sam muttered, scanning the dozen swirl-topped cupcakes.

“And I don’t even like the cake,” Gabriel said through a mouthful of sugar. “See how that works out?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah.”

Maybe next year, they could skip the decorating step altogether.


	4. Brotzly

Todd didn’t _do_ Valentine’s day. He didn’t like the corporate bullshit, the overpriced chocolates (that weren’t even high quality _,_ damn it), the explosion of red-purple-pinks vomited everywhere.

He had thoroughly explained this to Dirk, who had, at the time, nodded solemnly and agreed wholeheartedly.

Which was precisely why Todd was flipping his shit.

“Dirk,” he said, his voice deathly quiet.

“Todd, I _promise_ you,” Dirk said with an edge of desperation as he struggled not to topple over from the weight of the huge rose bouquet in one hand and the three-tiered heart-shaped cake in the other. “I absolutely, insurmountably did not intend any of this! They had a cancelled order at the bakery right as I walked by, and someone _ran into me_ and spilled the glitter all over me, and these flowers quite _literally_ fell from the sky as I was entering the apartment! It’s the universe, I swear!”

“Oh,” Todd said, crossing his arms. “I see. It’s the universe.”

Dirk nodded emphatically, eyes bright and earnest.

“So that’s why I got a sing-o-gram from some guy dressed up as Cupid singing me _Love’s An Open Door_ with the message, ‘Hi Todd, this is Dirk, your Valentine! This guy told me he’d do it for free after I helped him find his missing cat’?”

Dirk’s frantic nodding slowed, then stopped completely. “Damn! I thought I’d cancelled that.”

Todd pursed his lips, trying to hold in his smile. “Well,” he said, “better not let any of this go to waste, anyhow. Is that cake red velvet?”

Dirk perked up. “Of course,” he said. “It’s your favourite. Not that I bought it, of course—all the universe’s fault.”

“Sure it is,” Todd said. “I think right now, the universe is telling us that we should put those roses in a vase and eat that cake before Farah comes back and confiscates it.”

Dirk’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course. I totally agree.”

The universe had good taste in cakes. It was delicious.


End file.
